Silence

The crunch of skis against snow. The minimalist white landscape sparkles with ice crystals. The feeling of freedom across the open expanse is complete. I ski out – skis and sled cutting through the mountains like a brush over an unwritten white canvas.

Sketched Lines

The cold bites my cheeks. At times the landscape fades away, the contours vanish – everything turns to white. The wind howls across the plateau as I push forward. At last, the ridge appears, like sketched lines in all that whiteness. The brief daylight slips behind the mountain in a fairytale pink glow. The cold settles as darkness closes in, and to the north the aurora begins to dance across the winter night. Above, thousands of stars glitter in the sky.

The Winter Night

Inside the tent, calm descends. I melt snow – the eternal evening ritual – and a gentle sense of comfort spreads. The air is crisp and biting, yet it’s wonderful to sink into the warm, downy sleeping bag. I listen to the wind howling over the fells. In the distance, the gusts grow stronger, a low roar rolling closer. Soon I drift into sleep, dreaming my way across the white expanse.

Morning Light

The soft croak of a ptarmigan outside the tent greets me good morning. The coffee pot soon begins to boil. Night has turned to morning, though the sun’s rays have not yet reached the sky. When I open the tent flap, the sun rises slowly over the mountain plain. I pack up the tent, and with the sled in tow, continue my journey across the endless white landscape.